And Biggering
by Neebles
Summary: My big project! Basically The Lorax with the tone of the book and the story of the Once-ler's childhood, rise, and fall.
1. Snails and Nails

Every villain has a past and every tragedy has a future, and this is the way the Once-ler likes to think, featuring himself as the villain and the tragedy as the lack of Truffula trees, his own wrongdoing. The Once-ler is very aware that his past, no matter how hard he used to try, is unchangeable; the damage has been done and thus said damage would stay. However, all is not irreversible, but the problem, the Once-ler has found, is finding someone who cares enough to fix this tragedy.

And no one he would find; all visitors or passersby were either driven off by the old man's ever-so charming attitude or avoided his rickety house entirely, once again leaving the Once-ler stuck with his thoughts, his Thneeds, all of the payment he accepted from the rare visitors, and the rock outside of his window that reads "Unless."

That is, until today. This is where you come along, though the Once-ler seems less than happy to see you. You offer your payment of fifteen cents, a nail, and the shell of a great-great-great grandfather snail but the Once-ler makes a disgruntled noise and refuses it. So you try again, only to receive a snippy response of, "I don't want that. Go away!" The Once-ler narrows his eyes and crosses his arms, glaring down at you and again you hold your hand up toward the boarded window. The Once-ler scoffs, rolls his eyes, and says, "What do you want, kid? I don't have time for this nonsense." That is a lie. The Once-ler does have time for "this nonsense." He has all the time in the world, but he suspects that you are just another passerby that can easily be driven off.

Your reply throws him off as you huff, "I want to know about the trees. Someone told me to give you these things and then you would tell me, but if you want to keep acting like a total ass—" Before you can finish, something resembling a long silver trumpet shoots out from below the window the Once-ler sits at and stops in front of you. You stare at it, trying to figure out what the heck it even is, and you still don't understand until the Once-ler sticks his hands through the gaps between the boards and motions to the trumpet-like contraption. It registers that the old man is _finally _taking the items and you willingly drop them down the mouth of the device.

He pulls his arms back inside of his house to retract the device only to stick them outside of the window again, intertwining his fingers. "So," he begins, "you want to know about the trees?" He waits as you nod, then gives a raspy laugh. "What do you care about the trees?"

"I want to know what happened to them," you answer.

Again your reply surprises the Once-ler, but his voice does not reveal this. Instead he says, "You want to know what happened to the trees? I can tell you what happened to the trees, but it is an awfully long story. Someone with your brain capacity probably couldn't handle it." It's another test and if you leave now, he thinks, then you are just another impatient lowlife that the Once-ler saw from time to time. You do not leave; you only frown up at the Once-ler and cross your arms which receives a laugh from the man. "Fine, fine," the Once-ler continues, shaking his head. "Take a seat, kid, and I'll tell you my stories, and what happened to all of the trees. Better get comfortable," he pauses here, and when he continues, his voice is much more solemn, "because it's a pretty long story."


	2. And A Bag of Marshmallows

The Once-ler's name was just that—the Once-ler—but to everyone else he was anything but; to his mother, he was "Oncie," and to his aunt Grizelda and uncle Ubb, he was "kid," or sometimes just "you." To his classmates he was also "Oncie" but only out of mockery, or "Freckles," or "Beanpole," or their favorite, "That Dumb 'Inventor' Kid." Finally, to his twin brothers Chet and Brett, he was any name they wanted to call him, which was almost never the Once-ler but some form of an insult: "Dummy," or "Stupid," or "Twig," or something along those lines were common, but their favorite was an unspoken name and that was "scapegoat."

Little Mister Scapegoat was running as fast as his feet would allow him which, despite his legs being so long, was not fast at all. In fact, he was so slow and had fallen so far behind that he could no longer see Chet and Brett, who had taken off the instant the man chasing them shouted "What do you brats think you're doing? Give that back!" Chet and Brett had shoved the jumbo bag of marshmallows into the unsuspecting Once-ler's arms and darted away, leaving the poor Once-ler to face the angry shop owner Chet and Brett had attempted to steal from. The man stomped toward the Once-ler and attempted to snatch the bag of marshmallows from the boy in a sudden burst of panic, the Once-ler turned on his heels and sprinted away from the heavy-set man.

Now the same man was closing in on the Once-ler and the boy was struggling to stay ahead of him. This proved to be difficult given his legs had gone numb several minutes before and his sides were aching from pushing himself too hard. He briefly considered turning around and returning the stolen marshmallows to the man but this thought was replaced by the realization that the man chasing after the Once-ler could sit on him and break every bone in his body.

"Kid, you better give those back if you know what's good for you!" The man suddenly shouted, making the Once-ler jump and nearly lose the marshmallows he was trying so hard to escape with.

"I-I'm sorry!" The Once-ler squeaked, hugging the bag to his chest. _Sorry, _he thought, _really? _Why was he sorry? This wasn't _his _fault and yet here he was, sticking up for his stupid brothers. Again. And when their mother caught word of this, the Once-ler would probably be the one to take the blame. _Again._

The Once-ler was so engrossed in these thoughts that he didn't notice the fat cat crossing his path; the cat didn't notice him either, because it wasn't until the Once-ler tripped over the thing and fell flat on his butt that the cat, spitting and hissing, scampered off. The Once-ler, however, wasn't on the ground for long; the shop owner, panting and huffing, caught up to the fallen boy and stooped to grab him by the collar of his worn shirt. He pulled the Once-ler to his feet and snatched the bag of marshmallows away from him, tucking the bag under his arm as he hissed, "Where are your parents? I'd like to have a word with them."

Caught. Caught and about to be locked in his room for the third time that week, and the Once-ler couldn't even defend himself. He managed to stammer a quiet explanation as to where his mother was, keeping his eyes on the dusty ground beneath him. The shop owner dropped the Once-ler and with one meaty hand, motioned for him to lead the way. And he did, keeping his blue eyes lowered and his hands clenched by his sides. Scared.

…

"_Again_?"

"Mama, you should have seen him! He was running so fast! Even if you couldn't _see _the marshmallows you could _see _that dummy took them!"

"I thought that man was going to kill him!"

"Brett, Chet, shut up and go play."

This was how the scene played out in the Once-ler's head when the shop owner had been explaining what happened to his mother, and lo and behold, the scene had come to life just like a nightmare gone horribly wrong.

Chet and Brett ran off like they were told and the Once-ler was left to face his mother, who was less than happy with this chain of events. Neither the Once-ler nor his mother said anything for several minutes; his mother paced around the room while the Once-ler stared down at the front two legs of the broken chair he sat in. When this silence became unbearable, the Once-ler spoke up, but all he said was, "I-I can fix this chair."

His mother was quick to answer, her voice loud and harsh, "No, Oncie. You can't fix _anything!" _She turned to glare at her son who slumped further into his seat, nibbling on his bottom lip. "You can't _do _anything. Why can't you be more like your brothers? They're good boys—What happened to you?" Now she seemed to be talking more to herself, but every word she spoke was still sharp as ever, stabbing at the Once-ler until he was fighting back tears. Yet his mother seemed oblivious to this, or completely apathetic. She shook her head and waved her hand at the Once-ler, "Go to your room. I'm done with this."

The Once-ler didn't hesitate to flee to the temporary safety of his room. It was the only place in his crowded house that he had to himself, had to think. The only place where he could invent without being ridiculed for it, and as soon as the door was closed, this is exactly what he did; he wiped his face off on his arm and grabbed a pencil and a scrap piece of paper from his desk, where he sat and began doodling.

_The Super-Runner-Hopper _is what he titled it, and it could do many things. Yes, folks, it could make you jump higher and run faster—much, much faster! Have a problem with your pesky brothers blaming everything on you? It can fix that too! It can do anything! Anything you could possibly want.

Anything except make his mother proud of him. That, as far as the Once-ler was concerned, was a device that would never exist. Not in his lifetime.


	3. The Creation of the Century!

"Didja really steal th'marshmallers, Beanpole?"

"—and it can make you jump higher than ever—"

"Did yer mama 'ave t'pay fer 'em?"

"—and run faster too—"

"I heard yer brothers talkin' 'bout it at lunch an' they said y'ran faster than yer ol' mule Melvin!"

The Once-ler frowned behind the wrinkled piece of paper eclipsing his face. He made an inaudible groaning noise and shook his head. Everyone in the entire school already knew about the previous day's marshmallow fiasco, and, just as the Once-ler had predicted, _everyone _was bothering him about it. He had suspected that Brett and Chet were responsible for the rumors going around and, as sources had confirmed, he was right. It wasn't as if he was surprised or anything; this happened often, and Brett and Chet _always _had to falsely inform their fellow classmates about what had happened.

"I didn't run _that _fast," the Once-ler sighed, lowering the piece of paper to his chest, "and Melvin doesn't even run that fast anyway! He's actually kind of slow…" Wait. This didn't even matter. This week's show-and-tell was about his newest invention idea, not his mule, though the Once-ler didn't mind talking about Melvin (AKA his favorite not-person ever) at all. "B-But, my invention could make Melvin run a lot faster! It could make anyone in this class a lot faster! You see, it would be something that goes on the bottom of your shoes and when activated—"

"Alright, that's enough of _that." _The teacher, who had been silent this entire time, rolled her eyes and sat up, motioning for the Once-ler to sit back down. "We go through this every week and every week you take up half of show-and-tell time. Why not bring a stuffed animal or a shirt you really like or something?"

Doing as he was told, the Once-ler hung his head and low and gave a slight nod as he walked back to his desk. As he walked, he could feel the entire class' eyes following him, but he pretended not to notice and instead simply sat at his desk and folded up the sketch of his newest invention. He sunk in his chair, so absorbed in his own thoughts that he didn't notice the teacher call on the next person, nor did he hear their amazing tale about how once, my tooth got knocked out by a horse and it hurt for weeks but that tooth was _gold_ and made me lots of money and…

The Once-ler didn't care. He didn't care that that damn tooth was gold or that it was knocked out by a stupid horse. He didn't care. It didn't take long before the Once-ler couldn't stand any more of this story, and how _intrigued _the class was with something so stupid; he roughly pushed away from his desk and stood, and without another word, he grabbed his sketch and stormed out of the classroom.

"…a horse, Melvin! And the whole class was listening like it was the greatest thing in the world!"

Hours later, the Once-ler sat with his baby mule, Melvin, leaning against him and talking animatedly about the previous day's adventure and that day's stupidity and Melvin allowed the Once-ler to lean against him and talk about his problems, as the Once-ler often did. If there was anyone that the Once-ler could always talk to and depend on, it was his mule Melvin. His best friend. The only "person" he could trust.

Talking to Melvin calmed the Once-ler and briefly allowed him to escape from his brothers, his always-disappointed mother, his harsh aunt, and his uncle. Not only that, but Melvin was the only one who would sit patiently as the Once-ler rambled and ranted about his classmates, his family, and most importantly, his inventions. Melvin never tried to get up to leave and he never tried to hurt the Once-ler for the sake of getting him to shut up, not like others did. This was why the Once-ler loved Melvin.

"I swear, those people wouldn't know a good show-and-tell if it bit them in the butt," the Once-ler sighed heavily and leaned further against Melvin, who only grunted in response. There was a long pause as the Once-ler thought and Melvin ate some leftover oats the Once-ler had given him, but this silence was broken as the Once-ler began speaking again, "I thought my invention was good this time, I really did. It could make people run faster, walk faster, jump higher… It could help me run away when Chet and Brett try to blame stuff on me, so mama won't get mad—I mean, mama gets mad anyway, but she wouldn't get _as _mad. I think."

The Once-ler turned so he was looking at Melvin, and Melvin, in response, only lifted his head and nudged it against the Once-ler's palm. He gave a laugh, and stroked Melvin's snout as he continued, "I wish mama, and Aunt Grizelda, and Uncle Ubb, and _everyone _could see how great my inventions can be! I've never made one, of course, but someday I will! I'll make something everyone can use. Y'know, something that can _help _people, something everyone would buy and use and love. And then I would be rich and famous!"

Rich. _Ha. _The Once-ler almost laughed at his own little statement, that he almost managed to get himself to believe. Money was always lacking in the Once-ler's household, and since only Uncle Ubb worked, there was almost nothing they could do about it. Money was always welcome, as was help of any sort.

Help.

A multipurpose invention. Something that could not only clean up messes, but could help seal windows, fix broken doors. Something you could even _eat. _Something that his family desperately needed.

The Once-ler, his eyes widening in excitement, scooted away from Melvin and leaned forward so that he could draw in the dirt of Melvin's stable. Melvin strained his neck to look at whatever the Once-ler could have been drawing, but he sat so he was stooped over it, making it impossible to see.

Something that _everyone _could use.

Something that would help _everyone. _

Something that everyone would buy.

Something that _everyone _needs.

"Done!" The Once-ler suddenly shouted, making both Melvin jump and a few nearby birds flutter away. With another grunt, Melvin stood and trotted over to the Once-ler, looking down at the drawing curiously. In the dirt, the Once-ler had drawn what looked like a scarf, but also a spider, and kind of a suit of sorts. It was strange, to say the least, but the Once-ler looked proud and, standing, with his arms outstretched and his smile wide, he proclaimed,

"The invention of the century! The single thing that could change the world! I call it the thneed!"


End file.
